Hope Retained
by muses-pet22
Summary: Castiel had searched high and low for Dean for many nights, and each time had come up empty. He was becoming worried, but there was one place he still hadn't looked.


Title: Hope Retained

Castiel had searched high and low for Dean for many nights, and each time had come up empty. He was becoming worried, but there was one place he still hadn't looked.

The alley was dark and damp, smelling like the urine of many homeless and filled with the shattered remains of booze bottles. And it was there, in the furthest corner, that the angel saw what he had feared all along.

Dean pulled the needle out of his forearm, tossing it away, and leaned his head against the brick wall behind him. When he heard Castiel's footsteps, he jumped and looked up.

The angel stared at the man, eyes filled with sorrow, and Dean let out a croaking laugh.

"What? Sam's already said yes. I'm just doing my damnedest to make sure Michael never uses this body."

"You are destroying yourself." Castiel's voice was very quiet.

"Who the fuck cares? Now get lost."

"Dean-"

"Get_. Lost_. I don't want you here, and I sure as hell don't want your self-righteous drivel." And the man turned his face.

Castiel regarded him for a moment, and then spoke, voice still quiet.

"I cannot help you until you want me to, Dean. When you're ready, I will come to you."

And with a soft flutter of wings, he had vanished.

xxx

It was later in the night before Dean felt the urge again, and once more, he reached for his stash of heroin. His heart sank when he realized that the needle he was currently holding was his last one, and smiled grimly.

_What the hell. I'll find a dealer tomorrow._

Just as he would have slipped the tip below his skin, Castiel's words rang in his mind, as clear as a bell.

"_You are destroying yourself."_

Dean paused, still gripping the needle, and unexpectedly felt tears well in his eyes.

What was he doing? Castiel was right.

He'd been on the streets for months, ever since Sam had let Lucifer take him over, and had been fighting so desperately not to have to say yes himself. This was just an escape; a way to numb the pain and grief he felt...and a horrible way to do so, at that.

With the tears now running freely down his face, Dean closed his eyes.

xxx

Castiel heard the man's pleas, and was back in the alley in a minute's time.

Dean was backed into the furthest corner, as far away from light as he could get, and as the angel approached, he could hear his rapid breathing and see the tremors wracking his too-thin frame.

Swiftly, he knelt beside Dean, gripping his chin in his hand.

"How much did you take?"

"I didn't take anything," Dean said, voice labored.

"Don't lie to me," Castiel said, but Dean pressed something into his other hand.

It was the syringe-still full, and with a croaking laugh, the man spoke. "You were right. I can't do this anymore. It's not helping anything or anyone." Another tremor made him rock, and he pleaded, voice cracking, "Help me, Cas. Please...help me through this."

Castiel braced himself against the wall, reaching out to wrap his arms around the man, pulling him onto his lap. He could feel Dean's hearbeat, fast and thready.

"Stay with me," the angel murmured.

xxx

Many hours passed. Throughout, Dean shook and writhed in his savior's grip, the withdrawal almost too painful to watch.

"Cas," Dean whimpered many times, "let me die." But each time, the angel's response was the same.

"You will not die, Dean. I'm here."

It was near dawn when Castiel sensed them. They lingered and shifted around man and angel, hungry and menacing.

Dean felt them, as well. Barely able to lift his head from where it rested on the angel's chest, he whispered, "Demons?"

"Yes," Castiel said softly, and Dean shuddered.

"Black-eyed bitches are here for me."

But Castiel could see what Dean could not. They were not just humans possessed; these were the creatures themselves that surrounded the two. And they were hideous and horrible to behold.

Some had long claws and teeth; others sported hunched forms and batlike wings, and all circled Dean. He twisted again in Castiel's arms, saying, "They want me to give in. I can feel it."

"Don't." The angel's arms tightened around his charge, one cool hand brushing over his brow. "You're stronger than this. Stronger than them."

"I-"

"Fight, Dean. Fight them."

All the while the creatures continued to circle, growing ever closer to the man, and then Castiel heard the words Dean was whispering.

It was a hymn, and the demons paused, uneasy now.

Dean continued to sing, voice shaking, but suddenly there was an undercurrent of strength in it long ignored, and now the demons were shrieking their fury. There was nothing they could do, however, and as Dean drew the hymn to a close, they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

The man slumped in Castiel's arms, exhausted, and the angel could not help but reveal his wings and let them curve around Dean, who said weakly, "They're gone, aren't they?"

"Yes, Dean." Soft feathers stroked his face. "They cannot stay amid faith so great."

Dean shifted, bloodshot, weary emerald eyes meeting teal ones.

"If I have faith, it's only because of you."

xxx

Weeks later, Castiel visited Dean again, albeit without his knowledge. The man was clean-shaven, showered, and dressed neatly in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and in the very place the angel expected him to be.

He stood amid a circle of chairs, hands loosely in his pockets, and spoke softly.

"Hi. Ny name's Dean Winchester, and I'm a recovering addict."

"Hi, Dean," the group echoed back, and Castiel turned away, satisfied.

Dean didn't have to be a vessel for Heaven. The way the angel saw it, he was doing just fine on his own.


End file.
